


Silent Waters Run Deep

by relictionism (orphan_account)



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Canon Compliant, Come Swallowing, Creampie, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, Exhibitionism, Gift Fic, Gift Work, Humiliation, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, INDULGENT SHIT, Kinks, Light Dom/sub, Love Bites, M/M, Name-Calling, Oral Sex, Possessive Behavior, Raw Sex, Rough Kissing, Rough Oral Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Verbal Humiliation, akeshu - Freeform, degrading, shuake
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-28
Updated: 2019-06-28
Packaged: 2020-05-28 17:22:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19398844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/relictionism
Summary: Goro Akechi hates Akira Kurusu, with all of the spite in his soul.It's just that, sometimes relief comes in many forms: It could be in the form of a hand, or a toy, or a certain boy with black hair and fake glasses that has a thing for control and calling you his whore.





	Silent Waters Run Deep

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JokerTheBully](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JokerTheBully/gifts).



> HELLO IT IS ME  
> this is another commission fic for @JokerTheBully because YEAH  
> more notes at the end. you already read the tags right? gets kinda kinky up in here so be warned.

There could’ve been a reason why Kurusu decided to invite him out that day, or maybe it was simply a request born out of a whim— Goro wouldn’t put it past him to extend an invitation out to Inokashira Park just _because_ he felt like it, but in the same breath, he couldn’t help but notice the feel of an underlying intent in his voice, or the way his eyes crossed over Goro’s lips when he’d simply said an _“okay”_ in response.  
But Kurusu was, of course, a spontaneous man after all. Spontaneous, and sudden, and all in the same breath strategic and calculating behind those fake glasses he wore— maybe it was only to mask the natural air of confidence and bravado he had to himself, to make him seem as if he were a mere, unassuming seventeen-year-old high schooler.

But Goro knew he was more than that; Goro knew of coattails and brilliant red gloves, of theatrical gestures and almost-playful taunts, of strong arms that looked lithe under his sleeves and sharp teeth behind lips that curved up into one of the most _delicious_ smirks Goro has ever had the pleasure of witnessing for himself.

Akira Kurusu looked and acted like your regular sophomore in high school, but _God_ were looks deceiving— In Kurusu’s case, it was in _every_ _single **way**_.  
He was so deviously deceptive, so _cunning_ , so dipped into the world of danger and fingers too close to the fire that Goro couldn’t quite stop himself from wanting to inch just ever so nearer to the flame in piqued interest. It was as if Kurusu thought he was trying to string him along, thought he pulled the detective in only one step at a time, when in reality he danced a dangerous tango with Goro Akechi that they _both_ knew would take just a single mistake to end it all, this little _game_ of theirs.

 _Cat_ and _mouse_ — The only question was, _who_ would catch _who_?

Once more, it seemed like that question would be brought to debate tonight, when Goro’s keys jingled in the lock of his apartment’s front door and Akira had only leaned against the doorframe coolly, _cockily_.

Their time in Inokashira was normal enough, with walks around the routes and mindlessly staring out into the water and the pedal boats; Getting on the train together was normal enough, too, with hushed small talk exchanged between them and lingering stares; Akira disembarking beside Goro at Shibuya Station was _not_ normal, not at _all_. At least, not for _teammates_ who were only hanging out for the day, anyway.  
But Goro knew already what those phantom touches on his shoulder meant, when they’d been on the train; He knew already what that gaze sought after, when their chests were pressed together in the cramped space; Would only confirm his suspicions (lighting a spark of _excitement_ within his core which grew hotter and hotter) when Akira walked in step next to him as he navigated the roads, entered the apartment complex he lived in, and followed him up all the way to his front door.

Which is where they stood, the muscles in Goro’s shoulders tensing under the feel of dark, steely eyes boring into the back of his neck as he pushed open the entrance to his abode. Goro took a single step inside the apartment, pocketing his keys, and that was when he heard that low hum his ears were _well_ -acquainted with, by that point.

Red eyes met black, Goro’s lips to pull up into a faux-innocent grin. Akira wasn’t convinced, but it wasn’t at all like he expected him to. It was, maybe, a tease and a tug whilst their roles weren’t in place _just_ yet.

“Oh, apologies. Did you want to come in?” Goro asked, tone sweet and pleasant, much like his voice on public appearances. Akira would only shrug, and Goro _knew_ he was trying to look as casual as the signature pokerface he wore.

“That isn’t much of an answer, is it Kurusu? You know I’m not very well-versed in”—his eyes glanced down, briefly casting over the hints of skin below Akira’s collarbones—”.. _body language._ ”

At that, a chuckle bubbled from deep within Akira’s throat, and it was hard to miss how positively _seductive_ the sound rolled around his tongue, the confidence of it carrying through to his words.

“Maybe, but yours is easy to read right now.”

Goro leaned towards him, close once more but not quite into _too close_ territories yet— Though the gloved hand he’d placed atop Akira’s chest would definitely have raised questions from the unawares.

Still, his grin remained cheeky as he stared into the abysses of the man’s irises.

“ _Oh_?” he hummed, voice lowering, “And what does it say, _Kurusu_?”

There wasn’t any hesitation, and Goro quite loved the assertiveness when Akira pushed past the door and closed it behind him with a rather quiet _click_ resounding throughout the air. In the silence of Goro’s apartment though, it rang in his ears, made his heart begin to thrum and the knots in his stomach start to tighten.

That _click_ signalled the beginning of a long, _long_ night.

“It says that you want to be on your hands and knees for me again.” _Ah_ , there it was— That shift in the look in his eyes, the twitch of his lips upwards. Akira resembled Joker more now, and the part of Goro that loved the thrill of playing with fire hummed gleefully. “Am I wrong?”

He’d only grab a fistful of Akira’s black undershirt, stare matching his when Goro pulled him forwards and their lips just _barely_ grazing over the edges of one another, breaths mixing, heat building.

“Why don’t you come and find out for yourself, _Kurusu._ ”

And then he let go, pushing Akira back with the palm of his hand. With a _thud_ , the Thief’s back collided with the surface of the front door, and though he’d slumped back on it, Akira was looking at him with a delectable smirk playing on his lips and with his eyes spelling of nothing but pure _desire_ , like Mementos condensed into a single look of hunger and want.

There were no words exchanged between them, naught but the lust in their gazes doing all the talking before Goro turned on his heel and sauntered over to his bedroom door. He’d leave it ajar only slightly once inside, one final look cast out to Akira who’d straightened up and started taking slow steps towards where he was. It was a deliberate pace, giving Goro just _enough_ time to be as how Akira wanted him to be, when it came to nights like these.

When Goro heard the creak of his door pushing open, his bare back was to Akira with his uniform hung by the rack beside his window, pulled and straightened. The gloves he favoured remained firm on his hands, but with the slightest of turns, he could easily spot the way Akira’s eyes darted to the undone buttons and half-unzipped zipper of his slacks.

There was a satisfaction that spread throughout the man’s features seeing all the spots and marks and bruises that still mottled Goro’s skin. Goro could only share the sentiment, a single, gloved hand lovingly roaming over the expanse of his neck, down his shoulder blade, back up, and then, as he revealed the messy canvas of his chest to Kurusu (who stood by the door, arms crossed, face _pleased_ ) a grin of his own broke out when his fingers slid down, and down, ghosting over the marks on his skin: on his collarbones, around his nipples, down the lines of his stomach and disappearing into the fabric of his slacks.

Akira’s handiwork proved to stand the test of time—more than a week had already passed since he’d left _all_ of them on Goro—and Goro couldn’t quite help but both hate _and_ admire them each time he looked in the mirror during mornings before school or work, loved and _despised_ the subtle ache when he’d press a thumb against one of the hickeys to re-imagine the feel of Akira’s teeth on him.   
The thought alone made him want to groan, but it could’ve been the growing hardness in his pants, the steadily-growing hunger unveiling in glassy, black eyes that revealed Akira unfolding slowly, _surely_.

“On your knees,” he gritted, voice hard, tone commanding— sounding like the leader who led his group in a battle of strength and stamina, “ _Now_ , Goro.”

But Goro would only stride over to him, his eyes half-lidded and playful as he came to a stop behind the man’s figure. His lips pressed against the shell of Akira’s ear when his arms wrapped around Akira’s neck, puffs of warm air coming from his breath as he mumbled.

It would’ve been so easy to just strangle Akira at that moment, in all the vulnerability and in all the heat passing between their bodies— But Goro wanted the fun to last for just a _bit_ longer.

“It’s only been a week. Are you _that_ desperate to want to _fuck me_ again?”

Pleasure shot down to his cock when he heard a low growl sound from Kurusu’s throat, and the man himself sounded pleased, as well.

“It’s _already_ been a week and I was gracious enough to let you have my cock again.”

The words made him grin, lips eager then to leave trails of pecks down to Akira’s clothed shoulder. Even with his erection prodding against the back of Kurusu’s ass, the Thief still remained as calm as ever, breathing even, body relaxed, and all Goro could think to do in that moment to elicit a reaction was to bare his teeth and bite through his shirts, jaw clamping down on the skin and forcing a bruise to form.

A sharp inhale, a brief tightening of muscles, and Goro was pleased to pull away and lower himself to his knees. His head angled up once Akira turned to him, expression spelling interest and displeasure melted into one.

 _Oh_ , so he didn’t like Goro’s tiny stunt. That only made him more eager to see what Akira would do to him now.

A sweet smile pulled up his cheeks when there was a tug from the top of his head, the pain something he knew _much_ too well to really react to when Akira had grabbed a fistful of his locks and tugged— _Hard_.  
He guided Goro to where the bulge in his pants tented, and all Goro could do was stare eagerly, with his tongue already darting out to swipe over his lips before they were pressed against the erection.

It was second nature to him: knowing how to please Akira Kurusu, how to run his mouth over the cloth of his jeans and graze his teeth over the most specific of spots, how to let out pained and pleasured little groans with each insistent tug on his hair and with each lap of his tongue, how to look up at _just_ the right time with _just_ the right amount of vulnerability and desperation in his eyes, almost like he was pleading, _begging_ for more.  
He knew how much Akira got off on him, or the pretty way his lashes fanned over his cheeks, the spit that spread over his lips, the way his gloved hands grasped at the edges of his jeans and pulled though knowing he couldn’t do _anything_ until Akira commanded him to.

And when Akira _did_ tip Goro’s head back up and their stares met, Goro shuddered at the almost-angry look in those dark eyes— his furrowed brows, the hard line of his clenched jaw, the _glare_ that shot daggers at Goro.

 _Fuck_ was it hot when Akira looked mad.

“Do you remember your safe word, Goro?” he’d only ask, voice coming out breathless and a bit choked. Goro nodded curtly in response, and when the sound of a belt unhinging and a zipper being pulled reached his ears, he found himself coming face to face with the flushed head of a hard cock right before him, Akira’s pants and underwear already kicked off to the side.

When Akira’s fingers entangled into the hair on the back of Goro’s head, Goro would take his sweet time dragging his tongue along the length of the thick erection in front of his face, making long and slow licks from the underside and working his around.

“ _Good_ ,” Akira shuddered, all before his voice dipped into that low, _dangerous_ tone Goro so _hated_ , “Because I plan on hurting you tonight. I plan on pushing you past the edge and fucking you until you can’t walk. I want to leave more marks on you _just_ so you know who you belong to, and if you _ever_ find your way into someone else’s place, they’ll know someone already owns _Goro_ _Akechi_.”

The brunette made a noise in the midst of his task, something like a strangled though daring _“yeah?”_ spilling from his tongue.

“You’re _mine_.”

His erection twitched at the definitiveness of Akira’s voice.

Goro had just about slathered his entire cock with saliva, one hand cupping his balls and the other holding the erection in place— and if he wasn’t already hard and aching from giving Akira a blowjob, then the words he spat _definitely_ did it in for him. It was what solidified his _role_ for the night, what made him less _Goro Akechi, dignified detective prince_ and more _Goro Akechi, Akira Kurusu’s obedient little slut_. It was something that repulsed him, but _God_ did it sound so _right_.

A part of him felt revolted the very _sight_ of Akira Kurusu; the other revelled in the prospect of being used and abused by him. It was a strange feeling, like oil and water trying to mix— But Goro wouldn’t think of that, wouldn’t regret it for _tonight_ at least, when he could finally get some tension off his body and let himself be pliant and mindless.

And oh _Gods_ was he sure that Akira could make him mindless, drive him past his limit and make him _feel something_.

So, on his spread knees, Goro wrapped his lips around the cock he held and leaned in.  
Akira’s girth and length were things that Goro was well-acquainted with—knew just about every _especially_ -sensitive part and every inch of—and it was something he worked to his advantage as he took more of Akira into his mouth with leather-clad fingers circling its size, pushing in deeper and deeper and swallowing everything his unprepared throat could handle before he drew his head back.

He was slow at first, let himself enjoy the groans and hisses that spilled from Akira’s lips with his in and out, but when he felt those fingers grip onto his hair tighter and manipulate his pace themselves, Goro would comply and bob his head faster: going deeper, humming more, _moaning_ more, free hand exploring the skin he could touch. His tongue was eager to play with what it could and his hand covered what little Goro couldn’t take into his mouth, but it wasn’t for very much longer until he let his eyes lift and gaze up at Akira’s face, all whilst he pushed in _more_ and _more_. His nose pressed against the skin of Akira’s hip as his throat filled, the need to gag being suppressed by sheer _practise_.

Akira had a death grip on his locks when Goro hummed around the entire length of the cock fitted into his throat, his brows brought together as his eyes teared at the corners. He was losing air, and he was starting to _choke_ , but the face Akira made (with his eyes shining in admiration, his lip brought between teeth) pushed Goro to suck harder and to grip Akira’s bare thighs as a sort of tether.

Because Akira was groaning his name, dragging out the syllables so _sinfully_ and so _deliciously_ sweet that the entire thing _almost_ didn’t feel wrong— That it was almost like he hasn’t been sleeping with the _enemy_.

But that was part of the _fun_ , part of the danger that they were both so hopelessly attracted to and found within each other. It was stupid (in more ways than one) and so incredibly _wrong_ , but somehow, they’d always find themselves with bodies connected and with breaths intermingling, with hands all over each other and with the need to _satisfy_ themselves.  
Why they did this to each other could have been for wholly-selfish reasons (and Goro would be the first to admit that his reasons definitely _were_ ) but the pleasure and the pain that came with fucking Akira Kurusu was too good to let go if only for _just_ the moment, for while he was still a free man and not a dead one.

A reminder of that pain and pleasure came in the form of cum shooting down his throat unannounced, Goro unable to pull his head back with the hand that forced him down on Akira’s cock. His eyes would silently _beg_ Akira to let him go, but the man looked too high on his own damn pleasure to even give Goro the time of day.

A part of him hated it; the other had his cock twitching with excitement at the act of being forced like this.

_You’re an animal.. You’re just **trash**. _

When Akira had decided to let him go, Goro would only cough and gasp for air after he’d drawn his head back all the way, eyes squeezed tight and with the back of his hand coming to wipe his lips— But instead of letting him have respite, Akira pulled him up by the arm and pushed him until his back hit the wall, lips connecting, kisses so _desperately_ hungry and wanting more, and Goro wouldn’t do anything but respond in kind despite the hints of annoyance lingering in his head from the sudden climax down his throat.  
Even so, the tongue that forced its way past his lips made him gasp, a rough groan coming from the depths of his abused throat when Akira slid it along the warm, wet muscle in Goro’s mouth. His hand began to travel down his navel in an attempt to palm at his neglected hardness, but Akira’s grip grabbing onto his wrist and slamming it against the wall beside his head prevented him from taking any further action.

 _Miffed_ , act momentarily broken, Goro snapped, “Akira, let me—”

“You’re not good enough to call me by my name, _whore_.”

 _Oh_ , how the way he spit those words made Goro stop, _shudder_.  
There was a specific kind of dominance in Akira’s voice whenever they were alone, like this—a forcefulness and an assuredness that Goro had never heard anywhere else—and for that, he was glad for two separate reasons: One, to suppress the heat his tone of voice spread over Goro’s core, and two, pure _possessiveness_.

Goro wanted to be the only one who heard that kind of talk, with that kind of tone, from Akira.

Lowering his eyes, Goro was a second too-late to catch the knee coming between his legs. Pressure, slow ( _painfully_ slow) kneads, and then he saw stars.  
Goro lost the control he’d had on his legs the moment his crotch was blessed with the feel of friction, of a _touch_ he’d been depraved of thus far. His knees bent, his body curling towards the thigh grinding against his clothed erection as breathy moans spilled from his lips— But even with the pleasure he was given, Goro was careful to keep _his_ name from forming on his tongue, lest there would be punishment in store for him.

But really, what would be worse than what Akira had threatened him with earlier?

“ _Akira_ , fuck..”

A dark flush was surely spread across his cheeks, red probably tinted his ears, too, and he was a dishevelled mess with marks littered around his torso and with his hair mussed from being tugged and pulled in so many places, but even despite so Goro still wore a cheeky (almost _triumphant_ ) and rebellious smirk on his lips. His eyes half-lidded, he stared a challenge into Akira as the boy leaned into him—

“AKIRA, _FUCK_ —”

—And would only yell at the feel of teeth sinking into the junction between his neck and his shoulder, a head of dark hair buried underneath his chin. Immediately, Goro clamped a hand over his mouth, eyes darting over the wall to his left where his neighbours probably slept.

“ _Goddammit_ , you need to— Akira, _STOP_ —”

Akira didn’t stop. After all, Goro still hadn’t said _thieves_ , yet.  
His hand was ripped from his mouth, pinned to the wall next to his head so that both arms were raised and trapped. The bites and the sucks came in trails around Goro’s already-abused skin, each more painful than the last and already, he could picture the new bruises in the morning, spread all around his body _except_ for his neck— It was the one exception Goro set, and Akira followed.  
But still, the sudden attack of teeth and lips on his chest made Goro try and squirm, try to push off Akira’s head and make him _get off_ , had him struggling in the clamped vice grip on his wrists against the wall of his bedroom. All the while, he was moaning at every bite, barely stopping his hips from bucking at the thigh grinding against his crotch, suppressing how he wanted to _scream_ at all of the sensations hitting his body all at once.

When Goro realised he’d squeezed his eyes shut, he would crack them open just _slightly_ to look down, breath hitching in his throat at the deep frown set on Akira’s features. He was looking at Goro disapprovingly, like a master would do to a disobedient pet— Or was it more like the way one would look at unsightly trash?

“Shut up.”

The hands around his wrists disappeared, as well as the knee pressing against his clothed erection. Goro heard himself whine at the loss of pressure, at even the absence of pain on his skin. He wanted Akira to continue, _needed_ Akira to keep hurting him; and Akira knew this well, which was why the boy simply stood before him, with arms crossing over his chest and with a tantalisingly already-hard again cock in full display.

Goro was a prideful person, and under normal circumstances, he would _never_ submit himself to succumbing to every single command spat on him— But when Akira stared at him with those furrowed brows and with those hard eyes, all he could do was slump against the wall weakly, hands balled into fists by his sides to prevent himself from going for his own erection.

His vision swam, his face and neck were hot, and there was an ache trapped in his pants that _begged_ for attention. From his lips, Goro let out little pants and breathy moans, all simply from the scrutiny of Akira’s gaze.

_I could **kill** you. Stop looking at me like I’m under you. _

Akira grabbed a fistful of his hair again, and Goro would only yelp as he was dragged from the wall and over to his bed. When he was thrown down onto the mattress, the last thing he expected was for his pants to be undone and pulled down with ( _so_ much, **_too_** much) force before the articles were thrown to the side, only landing somewhere on the edge of his bedframe.

A much too loud moan forced its way from his throat the moment his cock was freed from the confines of his clothing, the chilly air of night wrapping around it and making Goro _shudder_.

“Shut the fuck up, you fucking slut.”

Akira took his hand and brought it closer to his mouth. All he could feel through the leather of his gloves was the press of Akira’s tongue dragging along his fingers, could only watch as his palm shone in a coat of thick saliva.

The boy was above him now, straddling his hips, only bent forwards with his perfect goddamn ass up in the air to spread spit all over Goro’s favourite pair of gloves.  
For a second, the thought of Akira bottoming tonight crossed his mind, and when he caught sight of obsidian eyes staring up at him with momentary innocence (an illusion?) Goro could only moan. The head of his cock kept brushing up against the white fabric of Akira’s button-up.

“ _Akira_..”

Akira withdrew. He sat up on Goro’s hips, bare ass pressed against his thighs as he stared down at Goro in that commanding, oh so _dominant_ glare.

“I told you to _keep_ **_quiet_**. How much of a dumb bitch are you that you can’t even follow something as simple as _that_?”

He reached over to the nightstand, where a half-full bottle of lube already sat at the ready, and trading it with his folded glasses. Throwing the bottle beside Goro on the mattress, Akira began to slip off his shirt and let it drop to the ground.

Goro whined, the temptation of jerking himself with the already-lubricated glove he wore invading his better judgment.

“ _Goro_.”

And then he stopped staring at his own cock to look back up at Akira, fully nude and with his nipples hard— It was one of the things Goro _so_ loved to tease and play with, whenever he was allowed to.

“If you don’t shut your fucking mouth until I tell you to, you’re going to get punished. Do you understand?”

Vaguely, all he could offer was a simple nod, before Akira took Goro’s hand (the one he’d licked over) to wrap it around Goro’s long-neglected cock.  
Goro had to bite down on his bottom lip, stopping himself from shuddering in lieu of his new command. The relief of having _something_ on his erection nearly tipped his voice over, but the _real_ challenge came when Akira began guiding his hand to make slow and steady strokes across his entire length.

He had to even out his breathing, had to _think_ and recollect his spite for the man— but when Akira left Goro’s hand to let him continue the pace he went at in favour of spreading lube all over his own fingers, Goro had ceased to really use his mental functions for anything _other_ than stopping moans from escaping his lips and keeping his hand going at a speed not faster than the one Akira set him on.

“You’re going to tell me when you’re close to cumming,” Akira began, voice careful and but a mutter as he scooted further down with sticky fingers, “If you make _one_ sound, I’m going to leave you alone and you’ll have to watch me get off to a girl I’m going to call on my phone. You’re not going to be allowed to touch yourself and you’re going to spend the next week without my cock. Do I make myself _clear_?”

Goro only nodded, bottom lip between his teeth as he continued to stroke himself.  
It wasn’t the first time he’d been made to jerk himself off with his gloves on, but the feel of it was certainly quite different (and intriguing) from skin on skin. The threat in Akira’s words was a _very_ real one, too, so Goro had to exert effort into following his instructions and keeping his hand slow, keeping his lips clamped and his throat quiet.

Even so, the sudden feel of cold, wet lube on his ass made Goro nearly lose it, groan dying on his tongue the _second_ he caught his lips opening. Glancing down, he saw Akira between his legs with one hand positioned before his hole. When their eyes met, Akira let out a _growl_.

“Keep going.”

_Don’t command me like I’m one of your **teammates**. _

But he did as he was told.

Again, the feel of cool lube crawled up Goro’s skin, leaving goosebumps to race up his arms in that split-second before a finger intruded into the walls of his ass. He bit down on his tongue to stop himself from making any more noise, choosing instead to focus on slowing his hand from its already-torturous pace on his cock.  
He knew he was tensing up in all places, knew that he probably felt like a stretched-thin rubber band about to _snap_ , but _goddammit_ did it all feel good: The texture of leather on his throbbing erection, the feel of a digit inside his clenched hole, the nakedness, the chill of an autumn night’s air— the stare Akira trained on him, the sardonic laugh that dripped off his tongue.

“Jesus, you really _are_ a slut, aren’t you?” he mocked, making to pull his middle finger out from within Goro, “You tightened up so much just from _one_ finger.”

Akira buried it inside again, only continuing on a steadily-increasing pace. It had to have been easy at that point, for Akira to loosen him up in just a few moves and then add another one— But even if he already knew that, Akira kept moving a single digit in and out, eyes refusing to leave Goro’s, smirk never wiping off his idiotic, infuriating face.

“Look at you. You’re naked and letting a Phantom Thief fingerfuck you in your own home. _You_ the famous Detective Prince, the one who swore to catch me and bring me to justice, reduced to a bitch that'll take cock whenever you can. You're all _weak_ and spreading your legs for the very criminal you wanna take down— What a joke."

_Yes—_

Goro froze for just a _moment_ when he felt another finger slip into him, and when Akira watched his core twitch and his hand stop, he’d glare until Goro continued stroking his shaft once more.

“How does it feel, _detective_?”—Akira spat the word with insult—“How does it feel to be fucked like this by me?”

 ** _So_** _good_.

Another finger, the third. Goro started squirming, and though it was with the intent to get himself farther away from Akira, all it really served to do was angle his hips in _just_ the right way for Akira to reach his sweet spot.

When he felt those fingers push into him to the very knuckle, Goro gripped the sheets with his free hand. Fire exploded from his nerves when Akira curled his fingers up, began rubbing his prostrate in the rough way Goro loved to be fucked.

A moan was there, just at the _tip_ of his tongue, and though it was wholly tempting to howl into the space of his bedroom with the pleasure shooting throughout his body, he _couldn’t_ — Akira told him not to make a sound; Goro _shouldn’t_ until Akira said he could.

“You’re shaking, detective.” Akira was panting now, gripping Goro’s thigh so hard that he was _sure_ it would bruise, too, “Is it because it feels good? Is it because you actually _like_ getting fingered by your enemies?”

 _Just **you**_.

Akira abandoned his sweet spot to start pumping again. Goro wanted to whine and beg him not to stop, but settled for biting into the back of his hand instead to muffle what _may_ come out, or to gag himself and hope for the best.

“Or is it because you like getting fingered by _me_?” His fingers curled as he thrusted them in and out of Goro, and stars floated in his vision each time they hit his prostate harder, _harder_ , “How long have you wanted me to do these things to you? Maybe it was since you found out I was Joker.. But I mean, even before that, you were being so _obvious_.

“Did you really think it wasn’t suspicious how you’d just come up to me at the station on _so_ many mornings? Or whenever you’re there in Leblanc, whenever I just so happen to get home? Don’t forget, you used to like staying there past closing time, too. What, did you expect me to make a move when there wasn’t anyone around?”

 _Always_.

Goro was lost. His head was swimming with the pleasure, his hand had somehow ended up matching the quick pace of Akira’s fingers, and all he could do was nod along with the words Akira said, with all the accusations and all the insults and all the shaming because _God_ was it all true.  
But he would never admit it, would only let the bedroom walls make the difference between how much truth there was in his silent confessions during their little _play_.

“And you were so desperate to actually kiss me after I invited you up to the attic, too. _Jesus_ , how badly did you want my cock to let me fuck you the _second_ there was a bed in the room?”

Goro let his eyes shift over to Akira’s then, and with every working braincell he had, he tried to tell him just how _badly_ he wanted it with nothing but the look in his eyes. But the moment their gazes locked, Goro was sputtering, slowing his hand, clenching his muscles and trying to hold it in because _fuck_ —

“A— _Akira_ , I’m—” Goro choked, words half-formed and voice strained, “ _Close_. _So_ close— _Really—_ Really _close_ —”

Recognition flashed in Akira’s eyes, and with the hand that fucked Goro, he reached out and gripped his thumb and index finger around the base of the brunette’s cock— But even so, Goro was lost in paradise.

His toes curled into the bedsheets, and his hands had almost-immediately went to grip at the skin of Akira’s back, scratching and squeezing and near-crying at the peak of pleasure that bubbled within his body that he couldn’t let erupt yet because he’d _surely_ let out his voice and—

“Let me hear you, Goro—” Akira moaned, hand steady where it held his erection, “ _Fuck_ , just fucking say my name and cum, baby. I’ve got you, say my name, _yell_ it, let the fucking neighbours hear I don’t _care_ —”

And Goro did.  
His back curved into Akira’s hand, trying to get as much friction and pressure out of it as he could as his lips spelled Akira’s name over and _over_ , moaning, almost _pleading_ , near _shouting_. His orgasm brought his mind to the clouds and his heart pumping, nerves set aflame, every sense heightened for just those few, fleeting seconds as he tried bucking into the hands that held him steady.

By the tail-end of it, Goro was heaving, his chest rising and falling with every deep inhale he brought into his lungs. Still, Akira squeezed the base of his cock, and when Goro looked over to him from eyes squeezed shut, he realised that Akira looked more _carnal_ than before.

Even post-orgasm, he didn’t get a chance to breathe.

It happened quickly: Akira turning him onto his stomach, pulling his hips up and grinding his erection into the crack of Goro’s ass, rutting against his buttcheeks like a depraved man, and all the while Goro was moaning, _panting_ , grasping at the bedsheets with bared, gloveless hands and letting his voice out uninhibited because _fuck_ was it good to use it, to repeat Akira’s name like a chant as his still-hard cock wept at the head for the _need_ to ejaculate.

“Akira, _please_ just _fuck me_ already— Let me have your cock in me, I _need_ it so _bad_ , I—”

But Goro’s spiel was interrupted— Not by the sudden push of hips too far in, nor by the harsh words of his dominant for the night telling him to _shut up_ , but by the sound of his ringtone singing into the air.

Goro’s head snapped up from laying on the mattress, zeroing in on his slacks hanging by the edge of the bedframe. The haze that’d clouded his brain vanished as he realised the ringtone of a phone call (different from the one he used for his.. _other_ _business_ ) played from the device in his front pocket, where the screen lit up with a faint glow in alert.

Before he could look back to Akira (torn between answering it or letting it go to voicemail) he felt the boy’s hand slide along his spine, up until Akira was gripping the nape of his neck in a light vice.

“Answer it,” came Akira’s voice, and even in his post-orgasm high, Goro would never mistake that commanding tone for anything else.

For not the first time since the start of their session, he felt the need to interject— and he _would_ have done that, if not for the fingers on his neck digging into his skin: a little something of a makeshift, invisible collar that tied Goro to Akira, that made him pliant and submissive and made it hard to think.

Another ring passed by. Akira had withdrawn from his spot behind Goro, so Goro took it as a sign that things were on _pause_ for just a moment as he crawled over and fished his phone out of the pocket.

One look at the caller ID told him it was a superior from the police department.

He pressed the answer button after giving a brief glance over his shoulder, really only seeing the silhouette of Akira with the bottle of lube in one hand as the voice of his superior spoke into his ear. Goro tucked one of the _many_ stray locks of hair falling over his face to behind his ear.

_“Hello, Akechi? Sorry this came late, but I’m calling about the case you’re on right now.”_

_The Phantom Thieves_ , his brain supplied, mind piecing back together now that things were less _heat and pressure_. Subtly, he made to clear his throat before answering, tone composed and collected as Goro Akechi, ace high school detective, should be.

“Ah, yes. Is there something to report, superinten—”

Cold. The first thing that popped into his head was that it was _cold_. After that, it was the hand on his hip lifting his bottom up once more, pulling him back into his position before.  
The word died on his tongue when Goro snapped his head back to look over at whatever the _Hell_ Akira was doing, his eyes shooting daggers at the boy who’d held his erection right at Goro’s hole with the most _devious_ smirk on his lips.

Goro mouthed a quick _“What the fuck, Akira?”_ at him. In response, Akira simply held a single finger up to his lips before making a phone gesture out of his hand and pressing it against his own ear, silently urging Goro to focus on the call. 

_“Yes, well—”_ Akira began pushing in, and Goro was _too_ aware of the fit of his cockhead in the ring of muscle at his ass, of the cold lube dripping down to his thighs, _“—I wanted to confirm with you that all preparations are complete.”_

“Y.. _Yes_ , that sounds—” Akira began pushing in further, _further_ , “That sounds just about _right_.”

And then back out, _slowly_. Goro had to force himself not to moan. 

_“Before we proceed though, we’ll need you to look it all over tomorrow morning.”_

“I’ll be sure to set _AH_ —”

All at once.  
Goro felt the slick of lube at least ease the friction, but when Akira pounded in the entirety of his length in one swift thrust of the hips, Goro let out a surprised gasp, phone pressed against his ear, glare over his shoulder, and lips caught between his teeth in an attempt to stifle the sounds that would’ve followed.

And it was then that he realised what, exactly, Akira was doing.

_Gods damn you and your exhibition kink, Goro Akechi._

“ _I’llbesuretoset_ a time! In my schedule!” Goro rushed, voice maybe too eager and words maybe too slurred together. Akira, behind him, had already set a steady pace that aimed to both loosen Goro’s walls _and_ to make his voice come out in pants and gasps— which he did his _damnest_ to suppress.

_Gods **damn** you to Hell, Akira Kurusu. _

_“Make sure it’s in the morning.”_

Akira gripped his hips, holding onto them as he rocked faster. Gods _forbid_ that the rapid, wet slaps of skin on skin wasn't too loud. 

“Y—Yes, s..ir—”

_“And be sure to review the details of the operation beforehand.”_

“ _Yes_ , sir—”

_“Are you certain you can set off the signal during your mission?”_

Akira angled his hips then, and oh _God_ he was fucking into his prostate. Akira’s cock was hitting Goro at _just_ the right place and it was so rough and raw and he was in _Heaven_ , and _fuck_ he had to keep his voice down. Goro needed to keep his moans in check, or at least cover his mouth.

He felt the tug of his hair again, before the hand slid down to use Goro’s shoulder as a makeshift grip. Akira began moving in and out of Goro harder, _rougher_ : going faster, his own moans coming out just a bit, _less_ quieter than before, and Goro knew he had to end this phone call before either of them did something _stupid_.

“Y— _Ye.. **Yes**_ , sir!”

For a moment or two, there was nothing but silence that passed. The call still hadn’t ended yet, and even with the pleasure coming from Akira behind him, there was still a looming anxiety that formed underneath his skin— with it, a strange and twisted form of _excitement_. 

They might’ve been caught.

_Shit, shit, shit—_

_“I suppose we can discuss this further in the briefing tomorrow,”_ came his superior’s voice once more, sounding just a _bit_ more static-y than before, _“Well then, have a good night, Detective Akechi.”_

“ _Youaswellsuperintendentgoodnight_.”

Goro tapped on the _end call_ button and abandoned the device in front of him.

“Fuck, fuck, _fuck, AKIRA_ —”

Why was that so _hot_? Being nearly caught by a person from work shouldn’t have been so _hot_.

Though there were frequently two sides of Goro Akechi constantly at war within himself, there was no question in his mind that he was _mad_ at Akira for pulling such a stunt, for putting them and their secret on the _line_ like that— But then again..

Goro needed to stop having second thoughts. Actually, with the way Akira was looking at him (like he was the most delicious piece of ass he’s ever had the honour of doing) he really shouldn’t even have _any_ thoughts at all. He needed to get back into this because _dammit_ between the ache of his own cock and the anxiety of possibly being caught doing something less-than-desirable with Akira Kurusu, Goro would rather focus on the former.

So, with a shaky breath, Goro turned his head and reached a hand out to grasp Akira’s.

“Kiss me,” he pleaded, tugging at the hand whose fingers he interlaced with, “ _Please_ Akira, just _kiss m—”_

And Akira did. The boy settled deep within Goro when he leaned in, took Goro’s chin in his fingers, and pressed their lips together.  
Goro, at first after the incident, started off hesitant, _unsure_ ; but after a few pecks, a few bites of the bottom lip, and a few teases with tongues, Goro was on his back with his legs wrapped around Akira’s waist, their lips mashing together, his hands lost in the inky, black curls of the boy above him. He tugged on his hair, scratched at the expanse of his back, urged him to go deeper, go _harder_ with each moan that dripped off his tongue and with each _“Akira, please”_ that spilled from his lips.

Soon, Goro was screaming.

Akira had sat back against the wall beside Goro’s bed as Goro lifted and dropped his hips above him. With the new position, his sweet spot was the only thing that Akira’s cock fucked into, and Goro’s lips beheld a well of dirty, lewd profanities that Akira indulged in.

As he rode the boy’s cock—filling himself up, tightening around Akira—Goro enjoyed the feeling of teeth once more exploring the canvas of his skin, biting here, nipping there, leaving kisses and kitten licks wherever Akira so _pleased_ and in his high, Goro only let him, only breathed out moans and Akira’s name to encourage the further spread of hickeys and bruises that marked him as _Akira’s_ , and Akira’s _alone_.

It was the pleasure warming him to his bones, the feel of touch and of being filled: Akira’s cock in his ass, Akira’s hand jerking his shaft in time with the pace they fucked, Akira’s voice saying his name, his eyes staring up at Goro so.. somehow so _lovingly_ and so _admiringly_ despite the haze of lust clouding over those shiny gems for eyes.

“ _Ha_ , Goro.. I’m gonna, _ah_ — I’m gonna _cum_ , baby, get _off_ now I’m not—”

But Goro shook his head, and though it might’ve been because it simply felt too _good_ to get off, there was a voice in the back of his head that _wanted_ Akira to shoot inside him, that wanted the boy’s orgasm to linger in his walls, make him smell like Akira.  
And besides, he himself was nearing his limit, his mind blanking, making him do things that he _shouldn’t_.

One, for example, was press the side of his throat against Akira’s lips.

“Bite me, right _there_ , ha..”

“Goro, you never want me to—”

“ _Akira_.”

Their eyes met, and for a moment or two, Goro slowed the grind of his hips against Akira’s. It was as natural as the pull of gravity when their lips melted into one another once more; as natural as the tides of the sea when they moved in sync (teasing, sucking, doing _exactly_ what made the other feel good); as natural as the moon and the stars in the sky when their hands once more found each other, fingers interlacing, as Akira moved to kiss down Goro’s jawline and across his neck.

And as Goro started rocking his hips, Akira was leaving little nips across the clear skin of his throat— and they were quick and almost _afraid_ , like he was testing the waters and finding a way around it. Unlike how he usually left marks, Akira was taking things slow: sucking a bit, kissing his neck _especially_ long when low groans left the brunette’s lips, biting but never quite _biting_.

But then Akira’s cock started throbbing in his ass, and Goro felt the other boy close to his climax. At the same time, Akira had started becoming more aggressive, had started being a little more hasty, a little more forceful, and because it was familiar, Goro let himself throw his head back and expose as much as he could. His thighs already hurt from the exertion of lifting him up and down, sweat began to trickle down the back of his neck, and Goro felt the urge to say _something_ aside from the heavy pants and breathy moans he’d been vocalising since Akira began working on his neck.

But instead, he’d keep his tongue bit—he’d cage his thoughts and let his body do all the communication—and when he once more felt that throb inside him, Goro only moved faster, _faster_ , more desperate and more uncontrolled.

His grip on Akira’s hand tightened when he felt the first of those powerful bites that cemented bruises onto his skin— and then _another_ , and then one on the right side, and a bit farther from that. All the while, there was a single word that left him, moaned and panted and shuddered.

Goro found himself shouting Akira’s name when the boy growled harshly into the skin of his neck, teeth clamping down on it when Goro felt orgasm spurt up within him. He rode Akira through his orgasm, his own coming not too late after and splattering onto their stomachs.

Breaths mingling, Goro slumped forward and rested his forehead against Akira’s, oversensitivity still too high for him to remove himself from the softening cock he sat on. Vaguely, he felt one thing, two things, _too many_ things happen around him: the sweat sticking to his skin, the pounding of his heart within his chest, the ache of fresh bruises, the warmth of Akira's cum inside of him, Akira’s breaths coming out heavy and laboured before his own— The way their hands still gripped onto one another, as if they were each other’s lifelines.

A minute or five passed by, and Goro was the first (as always) to pull back and stand with shaky legs. From his nightstand, he retrieved a box of wet wipes and began cleaning himself down, back turned to Akira. Like always, he would’ve tossed the box back at the boy and let him clean his own body— but then he felt the trickle of something sticky and warm inch down his thighs, and he _remembered_.

They’d done it raw, and Akira came in him.

“I’ll be in the bathroom, clean up,” Goro would only say, simple and maybe too quickly, before he tossed the box of wet wipes at Akira on his bed and exited towards the bathroom just the next door over.

It took a while actually getting out most of the semen inside him, but when Goro returned he’d washed his hands at least five times and had spent at least twenty minutes within the bathroom. The rest of the minutes he was there, he kept looking over the marks forming on his neck, started repulsing each and every single _one_ already.  
The sight he returned to was Akira, with glasses perched on the bridge of his nose as he scrolled down his phone, laying on his side of the bed in the darkness of Goro’s mostly-empty bedroom.

Goro didn’t think much of it as he trudged back to his bed, crashing onto the mattress with his tired figure and his exhausted mind. At least sleep for tonight would be assured, but to the extent of how long, he was still unsure of. Goro has noticed though, that whenever they slept in the same bed, he’d sleep just a _little_ bit deeper, get just a _few_ more hours of rest.

And that was the entire reason why he used Akira this way. Akira Kurusu was nothing but a means to an end. He reminded himself of that when he felt his blanket spread over the both of them, and then, lips on the back of his neck.

“Is this fine?” Akira asked, voice quiet.

“This is fine.”

An arm draped over him.

“And this?”

“This, too.”

Akira pulled himself closer to Goro, who refused to turn around and stop staring at the wall in front of him. Still, he couldn’t deny that Akira was _warm_.

“This?”

“Yes.”

“And _this_?”

Goro was about to ask him _what_ , when Akira leaned over and planted a kiss on Goro’s lips. It was sweet, and it was much longer and far more intimate than anything he and Akira had ever done before—something more loving, _purer_ in a way.

He liked it.

“ _No_.”

“.. Sorry.”

The rustling of sheets and blankets, and Akira was back to his position before with an arm over Goro’s side and with his chest pressed to Goro’s back. Goro wanted to lean back into him, but he _wouldn’t_.

“Kurusu?”

His reply came just a beat late.

“Yeah?”

Goro glanced up at the wall clock in his room, whose hands spelled _12:46_.

“What day is it?”

A beat, and then _two_. Goro felt Akira hug him closer.

“November 20th.”

“.. _Oh_.”

And silence. Goro watched the second hand tick by for a bit, and it may have been a few minutes before he concluded Akira had fallen asleep— When Akira had spoken up again, if only for a final time.

“Goodnight, Goro..”

Goro pretended to be asleep.

There was an abundance of warmth on his skin that night: on breaths that tickled the nape of his neck, on the arm that held him steadfast, on the body that pressed against his in the cold, autumn night in his bedroom.

The day was the 20th of November, and it was the night Goro Akechi listened to Akira Kurusu sleep, felt the gentle, easy rise and fall of his chest, of an alive and well young man.

But Goro would remember it another way, in a less _sweet_ way:  
The day was the 20th of November, and it was the day he would finally capture (and _kill_ ) the leader of the Phantom Thieves. 

**Author's Note:**

> c ou gh hello hi it's eyrist and yes i used this as an excuse to write shuakeshu smut p a rt ly bc it's hot and mo s t l y bc i need smut study/practise lmao 
> 
> this is a commission piece i've been working on for my friend, @JokerTheBully  
> she wanted the entire nine yards with k i n k y s t u f f so i DELIVERED. HERE YOU GO. I HOPE YOU ENJOYED.  
> go check out her art tho. here's a piece she made for me !! https://twitter.com/UmiAkira__/status/1141759814831419392
> 
> while i'm here, m&m might get a delayed-ish update by idk how many days. i got w a y too focused on this but i h a v e begun writing the next track so yeah lmao 
> 
> want a listen list ? i got an entire damn p l a y l i s t for y'all  
> https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLkNa30I_jAe0MaZB0_B9Jtlh_DaetBWrr


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